


Say it

by katiebuttercup, KissTheBoy7



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Rule 63, Unresolved Sexual Tension, always-a-girl!Mark, girl!Mark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissTheBoy7/pseuds/KissTheBoy7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girl!Mark and Roger's relationship changes irrevocably on New Years</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Amanda

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Say It!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/527271) by [KissTheBoy7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KissTheBoy7/pseuds/KissTheBoy7). 



> This work was originally written by Toni (kisstheboy7) who was kind enough to allow me to tamper with her hard work and this is what happened. I can't recomend the original version enough. 
> 
> Disclaimer: All character belong to Jonathan Larson and the story itself belongs to Toni (kisstheboy7)

New Years Eve.  
Enter Amanda, for once leaving her camera in her room (at Roger's request), her hands feeling  
useless without it's comforting weight. Roger, who has been acting strangely around the filmmaker  
for more than a week, welcomes Collins with a bear hug and a slap on the back. The tall black man  
has once again brought some of his stash and a good amount of Stoli and Absolut vodka. He knows  
how to keep the Bohemians entertained. Angel enters after him, rapping a beat with her drumsticks,  
laughing.

Maureen and Joanne arrive, carrying two bags of chips, a large tub of dip and a case of soda, They  
greet everyone cheerfully. Mimi arrives shortly after, a bright smile, she doesn't give Roger a  
longing look as she might of done a year ago-she's over him, moving on, building a life, no day  
like today.

Fast forward one hour. Somehow, and for the life of her Amanda can't remember how, she's ended up  
sitting on the dusty floor in a circle with the others, and there's a bottle of Absolut in the  
middle. Everyone has a shot glass in their hand and they're already buzzed. They have persuaded  
her to join in their drinking game and she couldn't remember why she wouldn't  
want to. 

Then she remembered.

Maureen.

"Truth or dare, Mandy?" she answers with truth because she can't pick dare-she's chickenshit.  
Everyone knows Amanda would never pick dare, especially from Maureen. 

She asks her, big brown eyes big and mischievous, "If you could have sex with one person in this  
room, without an uncomfortable morning after, who would you fuck?"

Amanda blames it on the alcohol, a mixture of drunkenness and fearlessness that makes her point to  
Roger, because really it's never going to happen. Roger likes rocker chicks, girls who wear their  
sexuality on their sleeves, not shy geeks who can't be without their camera for ten minutes  
without feeling socially inept. For once she feels open and free and she giggles at her own  
answer as without comment Maureen continues the game. If she were sober she would question  
why Maureen hadn't raised an eyebrow, why no-one questioned her or made a remark but she was on  
the right side of being blissed out and didn't care.

Fast forward another hour and Collins' long body is sprawled out on their couch, completely stoned,  
Angel lies half asleep in his arms. Marijuana smoke drifts languidly around the room whilst  
Maureen is singing, slightly off key, Mandy notes, inwardly giggling, to an old portable radio she  
had brought whilst Mimi accompanies her and Joanne looks on lovingly but with definite amusement  
in her warm brown eyes.

Roger, of course, is smashed just like Maureen. Amanda takes a long look around the loft, trying  
to focus on her wayward roommate. He'd been weird ever since truth or dare but she hadn't been  
able to figure out why. 

Maureen's shriek pierces the air as she looks wildly at the clock, her hands flailing about trying  
to count them in 

"5....4...3...2...1....HAPPY NEW YEAR!" There is a general shout from the Bohemians and Angel claps  
snuggling deeper onto Collins. Maureen pulls Joanne in for a kiss and the lawyer obliges, even  
grabbing herself a piece of ass as she does so. Amanda grins at the sight. It's cool to see  
Joanne so loose, especially since Maureen has no problem with public groping. Amanda would even  
call her a fan.

Mimi slumps against the couch and Angel takes her hand and squeezes gently. Mimi's face lights up  
and Amanda feels her heart expand for her friend. A year ago she had feared for the dancer's life  
and now she looks happy and content and young. 

Amanda admires her, a small part of her wishing that she had someone to kiss, someone to ring in  
the new year. She's half tempted to kiss Mimi, just for a laugh. She knows Mimi will take it in  
the spirit it is due.

The thought is brief and half formed, because barely a second after she thinks it she is turned  
around and slammed into the wall, kissed savagely by one Roger Davis. 

Before she can draw breath she feels her legs being spread and she feels Roger's knee between her  
thighs and she can feel his hardness rubbing against her deliciously in a way that makes her see  
flashing lights.

She feels a hand run through her hair and then grip hard, even as he's pressing his body against  
hers. There is no part of them not touching and Amanda finds herself pinned up against the wall,  
even as she felt his teeth nibble at her lips and then the warmth of his tongue forced into her  
mouth, caressing and writhing.

She's never been kissed like this before, with this much hunger, like Roger wants to devour her  
right up against the wall with all their friends watching and all she can do is wrap her left leg  
around his hips, rubbing restlessly against the hardness that is so close but too far away to get  
any satisfaction.

Amanda gasps into the warm cavern of his mouth as she feels Roger's hand caress the leg she has  
wrapped around him from her knee up, underneath her plain denim skirt, and over her thighs. His  
hand was hot and she could feel it brand her skin. 

There was no room for thinking, because suddenly Roger is moving and she can only cling to him  
as he stumbles towards the bedroom at the end of the hallway, away from the commotion in the  
living room. Roger's mouth is hard on hers as he leads her backwards into the room, fumbling to  
close the door behind them even as he is desperately running the other up and down her torso  
underneath her shirt. 

Amanda hears the click of the door shutting from far away and suddenly they are alone in the dark  
in Roger's room. 

"Fuck, fuck, Mandy," Roger groaned in his ear, breath harsh and wet and moist in his ear as he  
bore her down onto the bed. The huskiness of his voice dripped sex and promise and Amanda rubbed  
her legs together to ease the itch he had created in her. 

This was Roger, her roommate, who suddenly bore little resemblance to the man pulling her shirt  
off and grinding down on her, and any alarm bells she may have had were lost in the cacophony of  
blood pounding in her ears. 

"Roger..." Her feeble attempt to push him away was cut off by Roger's tongue in her mouth. In one  
smooth motion that spoke of years of experience Roger found the latch to her bra strap, arching  
her body up so he could throw it into a dark corner, possibly forever. Her back found the  
mattress again as his lips moved lower, capturing a hardened nipple between his teeth and sucking,  
even as his other hand moved to unbutton her skirt and drag it down her legs along with her  
panties. 

Suddenly there is bare skin and Amanda can't help but to touch, fingers roaming effortlessly  
against the smooth skin of his chest, broad and full despite his past addictions. She finds herself  
wondering just what Roger had in store for her and how she has become pinned onto Roger's bed, even  
as Roger captures her small wrists in one big calloused hand and holds them above her head. 

This is when Amanda puts two and two together. How many times she had come home to the frantic,  
almost animalistic noises coming from Roger's room and how many headphones had she busted in her  
attempts to drown out the noises. But it hadn't worked. Roger had always mentioned things  
jokingly in conversation: handcuffs, whipped cream, collars. And Amanda had always assumed they  
were jokes because she had known that Roger liked to embarrass her, knowing that her fair skin  
made her a prime target. Roger just being Roger.

Her thoughts are derailed as she feels the thick material of her scarf being wrapped around her  
wrists instead of Roger's hand, and she finds herself tied securely to the bedpost even as she felt  
him straddle her.

"Mandy..." Roger's voice was suddenly in her ear and as he leaned close to lick the curve of her  
ear she whimpered impatiently. As soon as the sound left her she felt Roger's grip tighten as the  
musician sucked in a low breath above her.

For a moment Amanda was sure she had done something wrong. It had been a while since she had found  
herself in this situation, before Roger's drug addiction to be sure and she had never been on fire  
like this, desperate for even the barest touch. She was sure Roger was beginning to realize who  
he had tied to his bedpost and was regretting it. 

But then Roger pushed his boxer clad erection against her and growled, "Fuck. Do that again."  
And Amanda nearly came right there. A startled moan escaped her, high and needy, her hips pushing  
desperately upwards, seeking friction. 

"Fuck..." Roger hissed, drawing out the word as his fingers inched closer to her clit.

"You're so fuckin' hot...I'm gonna fuck you so hard into this mattress that you won't even  
remember your own name." 

Amanda whimpered, feeling the wetness seep over Roger's fingers at his words. 

"Rog....Rog...Oh God ROGER!" Amanda squeaked. One of the musicians fingers was inside her and she  
could feel herself clench around him, wanting more. She cried out as he curled his finger suddenly.  
"FUCK! Roger, shit, please..."

Amanda swore she saw Roger flash a wicked grin in the dark even as he slid down her body until he  
was lying between her legs.

She could feel the silky softness of Roger's hair on her belly even as he leaned forward and licked  
a strip against her mound, circling her clit deliciously, enough to tease, to promise but nothing  
more. He repeated the movement, slowly easing a second finger into her, scissoring gently, 

Amanda twisted her wrists uselessly against the restraints, eyes squeezed shut at the exquisite  
pleasure pain, moaning Roger's name under his breath.

Her whole body convulsed as the songwriter flicked his tongue over her clit at the same time as his  
fingers twisted inside of her, matching the rhythm perfectly, her hips arching to meet Roger's  
mouth.

"Please, please, Roger" 

His tongue continued the torturous pace, speeding up and slowing down, but never so that Amanda  
could predict it, forcing her out onto the precipice without falling over. She could feel her  
orgasm at the tips of her fingers. As if Roger could hear her thoughts he drew his tongue over her entrance once  
and said, almost conversationally:

"I could do this all night, keep you begging me to fuck you...."

Amanda's breath came out in a sob. 

"Or I could fuck you, fuck your tight little pussy till you screamed my name. Do you want me Mandy?  
Want my cock inside of you?"

The sound of the condom wrapper being undone allowed her to find her voice. 

"Please. Please, Roger, fuck me now. I want you. So fucking bad. NOW" She would be embarrassed by  
the naked need in her voice if she were anywhere else, if Roger wasn't leaning over her,  
running his hands over her breasts and stomach in smooth, feathery touches.

"I'm gonna make you fucking scream my name," he promised, positioning himself over the bound and  
eager Mandy. "Ready?"

Roger didn't wait for a reply as he plunged smoothly into his roommate. Amanda cried out below him,  
and he stilled, waiting for her to adjust before pulling out and sliding back in to her. Hard.

"Roger!" she gasped, trying to get her bearings. Her body had forgotten this pleasure pain and  
Roger wasn't being gentle.

"Shh, Mandy, I've got you," he replied soothingly. There was a gentle press of his lips on hers and  
then sweet Roger was gone again and she was being pounded into the mattress. But a minute later  
Amanda didn't care. Her body adjusted around him and she welcomed his fast, smooth strokes, her  
thrust upwards meeting his downwards stroke half way and all she could feel was fire all around  
her. Roger's hands were around her hips and she was sure she was going to be bruised tomorrow, her  
wrists burned as she turned them uselessly in her scarf. 

Sweat beaded at her throat and Roger swiped it with an upwards curl of his tongue, nibbling at  
the juncture where her throat met her shoulder. 

Suddenly Roger stopped, and Amanda's body shuddered from the lack of stimulation, her heart  
hammering against her ribcage. All she could see were those deep, deep green eyes staring her down.

"You're mine, say it." Roger whispered against her throat and Amanda whimpered her agreement.

"Please, please, Roger!" Amanda begged, but Roger shook his head. 

"Say it. You're mine. I want to hear it."

"Roger..." Amanda breathed. Her eyes went to the door- if the loft lacked one thing it was privacy.  
They had paper thin walls. It was unlikely that their friends hadn't heard what they were doing,  
but Amanda hoped that they were too drunk and out of it to figure it out. If she did what  
Roger wanted, though... she shut her eyes.

"I can't! They're all still out there...."

Roger ran an idle finger across her clit and Amanda choked on her breath. 

"Say it Mandy. You know that it's true." He paused, and then each word was punctuated with a slow  
rotation around her clit. "Say. It. Now."

The last was a command and Amanda was helpless to do anything but obey. 

"Fuck, fuck, alright, I'm yours, fuck." Roger groaned underneath his breath and resumed thrusting  
into her with renewed vigor. Amanda, as Roger had promised, screamed his name. 

There was a brilliant flash of red and gold outside the window as Alphabet City celebrated the new  
year. Amanda stared at the ceiling as her breath evened out. She watched as Roger disposed of the  
condom and pulled on a pair of boxers.

"Are you going to untie me?"

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Roger asked. 

"I think I've proved I am a very good girl." 

There was something unreadable in Roger's voice as he leaned over her until he was all she could  
see. 

"Stay."

Somehow they had gone from playful to serious in a matter of seconds. 

"I can't."

"You're going to have to leave this room sometime. Either now or tomorrow they are going to make  
their own assumptions about what happened." A wicked, tilting grin, "Although I'm pretty sure  
it's beyond dispute. Face them alone now, or together tomorrow."

She was caught and he knew it, but there was something gentle in Roger's eyes, and Amanda didn't  
have the energy to collect her clothes and walk back to her own room. Her legs were jelly, her  
body ached and she wanted to sleep but even more dangerous was this feeling she had ruthlessly  
repressed since before April. 

Loving Roger.

This may have been a simple fuck for Roger but Amanda was pretty sure she was going to have some  
sleepless nights over this. 

You're mine.

Was it true? Did Roger want her? For more than a night? Did it mean something other then kinky  
sex games?

Roger was flat out in bed, hand covering his face, "Stop thinking so much Mandy and come to bed."

There was nothing else to do but get under the covers. She tried to keep her heart from thudding  
as he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the burn on her wrists


	2. Roger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Roger felt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thaks to Toni kisstheboy7 who not only let me steal her idea she also beta'd this and gave me some lovely new lines. 
> 
> Disclaimer: As always all characters belong to Jonathan Larson and the story is completely based on kissthegirl7's fic
> 
> Also 'touch of my hand' belongs to Britney Spears and whoever wrote it. I know that it doesn't fit into the timeline of the play/movie but it fit so well with the story I couldn't resist

It is Mimi who clues him in. Not that he hadn't had enough clues but he's been practicing denial for little over a month and he's not ready to admit it. Yet. 

It's her fault anyway. He had walked in on a girls evening, Joanne, Angel, Mimi and Amanda with a cheap bottle of wine that Mimi had stolen from work. And then Maureen. 

There is a small radio that Maureen has brought and a horrible Britney Spears song is playing from it. 

And then Amanda joins in, her voice clear as a bell over the pop stars.

"The more I understand the touch of my hand ayay, ayay, ayay, ayay.." 

The sound is light and breathy and Roger's musician's ears are impressed that Amanda can make a sound so much like an orgasm, in tune. But what is even more disturbing is Roger's reaction. He looks out into the loft. Amanda's eyes are closed, mouth slightly open and Roger suddenly imagines her in his bed, naked and making that noise for him. He's instantly hard. 

He shakes it off as the room dissolves into giggles again, but the image and the sound follow him. When he's in bed, hand wrapped around his cock it's Amanda that he imagines, that breathy, soft sound in his ears as he strokes himself. 

He tries to rationalize it. Amanda is the closest female to him since his break up with Mimi and his body is obviously telling him that he needs to get laid. The guilt eats away at him. He shouldn't feel this way about Amanda, shouldn't want to do a hundred dirty things to her, shouldn't imagine her naked and writhing beneath him, on top of him whimpering his name. 

Amanda is his best friend, the only thing in his life that he can count absolutely, that he would do anything for. Amanda just has to say the word and Roger will jump, and it's not just guilt over the way Amanda has stood by him through everything, has taken care of him, loved him at his worst and still stayed around. He can never repay her for everything she has done. And what does he do? Imagine fucking her like she were some girl in a club. 

Mimi listens silently as Roger confesses, awaiting her judgment about what a lousy best friend he is but Mimi simply sighs and says, "It's because you're in love with her," like the way you would say 'the sky is blue.' 

Roger just stares. She's wrong. He would know if he were in love with his best friend.

"You've been in love with her for years if Collins is any judge", Mimi says, and there's no heat in her voice, like she hasn't just admitted her ex was in love with another woman while they were together. 

Roger shakes his head. Okay, so maybe he'd liked Amanda when Collins had brought her to the loft all those years ago, had liked her fresh face and innocent smile and dreams of becoming a filmmaker. He'd like the challenge. Roger was a self proclaimed rock god at the time, with hundreds of groupies but none like Amanda, virginity and innocence creating an invisible shield around her. And she hadn't been impressed with Roger. He grimaced slightly as he remembered. She had given him a long assessing look, but obviously the punky grunge look wasn't her thing. She liked his voice and his playing, but when Collins had made a remark about Roger keeping his hands off Amanda had laughed and told him that she didn't think she was in danger. After that Amanda has sort of blended into the background and Roger, easily distracted had moved on to shinier, more glamorous baubles. But that initial reaction had festered at the back of him mind, even as he and Amanda had gotten closer, best friends and through April and drugs, the suicide attempts and withdrawal. Amanda must have a mountain of chips she could call in at any given moment but she never had. 

And maybe if he'd been that asshole way back when he would have considered it, but what was he now? A washed up guitarist with HIV. Not exactly catch of the day. 

It was New Years Eve and Mimi had made him promise to make a move. Ignorance was definitely bliss, he thought. He'd been much happier when the thought of Amanda just made him smile, want to be a better person, instead of instantly hard. He'd been in a foul mood for most of the week up to New Years, snapping at everything and especially at Amanda. This sexual tension had to be released somehow and he'd spent too much of his time with his hand wrapped around his cock, Amanda's name hanging on his lips.

He'd asked her to leave the camera in her room, and she'd obeyed, he wanted her to live in the moment for once and it had worked, she was part of the group instead of perpetually filming it. 

But that was the start. She'd been drawn into a game of spin-the-bottle-truth-or-dare and he should have known Maureen would do something stupid.

"If you could sleep with anyone in this room without an awkward morning after who would it be?"

And Amanda had pointed at him, giggles bubbling up out of her, and all Roger could hear was the fake orgasm of that stupid fucking song. 

He'd left then, gone to stand out on the balcony, hoping the cold air would slap some sense into him but instead of cooling him down it made it even more difficult for him to focus on anything but Amanda. He turned looking into the loft. The room was warm and cozy- Benny had finally quit being an asshole, at least this Christmas. 

He heard Maureen start of count down to the New Year, and watched as Mimi drew Amanda into a hug. Jealousy took over. He'd always been territorial and Amanda had always, always fell under the category of his. No matter who or what happened in their lives that was the constant and suddenly he didn't like his ex-girlfriend's arms around his Amanda. 

He was back in the room before he knew it and as the final countdown faded away he grabbed Amanda, slamming her against the wall. She let out a soft muffled oof as her body hit the wall but he swallowed the rest of the sound as he kissed her. Hard. 

He's running on adrenaline now- there's nothing but want and need thrumming through his blood, hot and heavy and demanding. He's sort of reminded of heroin, this desperate desire and the culminating high but this is a hundred times better. If they could bottle Amanda's kiss they'd have thousands more addicts. He would be at the front of the line, and there would be no rehab that could bring him back. 

He spread her legs easily. For once she's wearing a skirt and he's eternally grateful to whoever talked her into wearing it. She'd worn the skirt the day he'd met her and he'd been impressed by the length of those legs, the pale creamy skin. He had always been saddened that Amanda had slowly reverted to wearing jeans the longer she stayed. He grins inwardly as Amanda wraps one of those gloriously long legs around his waist and he returns the favor by running a hand up her knee and under her skirt. He rubs the heel of his hand over her mound and is rewarded by a sharp groan and wetness seeping through her panties.

There's no going back now and Amanda doesn't seem to have any objections. Her arms wrap around his neck even as his hand runs through the soft silkiness of her hair. It smells wonderful even though they use the same shampoo, cheap and scentless. 

There is only a small part of Roger that remembers the bedroom. He's perfectly willing to take Amanda up against this wall in front of all their friends, not that they are in any state to watch, bombed out of their minds on alcohol, marijuana and good will and they've all walked in on each other in fairly compromising situations before. But he knows that Amanda could come to her senses any moment and there's no way she would let him. So, reluctantly, he leads her back to his room. 

The door shuts closed behind them, shutting them away from their friends, from the rest of the world. Roger's only concern is the woman lying on his bed, eyes dark and wide as he lays her back.

"Fuck, fuck, Mandy," Roger groans in her ear, harsh and wet. It's not Shakespeare but it's all his mind can spare him.

The woman in his bed bore little resemblance to his roommate, shy, serious Amanda Cohen who was always content to be in the background. All he can do is divest Amanda of her shirt as quickly as possible. He needs to feel her skin with the same desperation with which he would have handled a needle. 

"Roger..." Her voice is dark and needy but she's trying to push him away, she wants to talk, to analyze but Roger is in no mood and he cuts her off by kissing her again, tongue gently but insistently moving against her lips until she opens her mouth to him. 

Her bra is the next to go and he flings the material into the dark confines of his room, not caring if Amanda can find it again later. He doesn't want her to.

He stares. Amanda is pale all over, her nipples shell pink against the snow white skin and Roger can't resist taking one aching nipple between his lips, laving it gently with his tongue. Amanda arches into him with a cry and it spurs Roger to move to the other breast as his free hand travels down her belly. He doesn't like that he can feel the impression of her ribs against his fingers, another testament of how much Amanda gives up for him but he's going to repay he somehow, and if nothing else he's going to make her feel good, feel him. 

His fingers brush the cold button on her skirt and he easily draws it down her legs along with her panties as his mouth moves lower, sucking kisses over her belly until he reaches her belly button. He pauses for a moment, shucking his shirt off, suddenly too hot with the material rough against his skin. He wants to feel Amanda against him, not cheap cotton. His stomach contracts as he feels her soft fingers running over his chest, his stomach and her feather light touches feel like fire licking his skin. It's too much and he grabs her hands, trapping them over her head. 

He glimpses something spilling over the edge of the bed. Amanda's scarf. An evil thought forms in his brain and without a second thought he begins to wrap the material around Amanda's wrists and the bedposts. There is a spark of fear in her eyes as he straddles her, making sure his weight isn't settling on her. 

"Mandy..." His voice is hoarse as he whispers, licking the soft curve of her ear. She whimpers beneath him and Roger has to shut his eyes and grit his teeth not to come right there. 

He can't control himself as he pushes closer to her, erection straining against his boxers, his voice little more than a growl.

"Fuck. Do that again."

She does, this time a tight high needy moan following it as her hips pushing up against him, seeking the friction he desperately needed. 

"Fuck..." It is drawn into a hiss. His whole vocabulary, not exactly extensive, has been sucked out of him through his dick and all he wants is Amanda. 

"You're so fuckin' hot... I'm gonna fuck you so hard into this mattress that you won't remember your own name." Her clit is slippery as his finger runs over it.

"Rog... Rog... Oh God, ROGER!" He slides his fingers inside of her, biting the inside of his cheek as she clenches her muscles around the digits and he curls his fingers until he finds the nerves that shatter her. 

"Fuck! Roger,shit, please..."

He grins. He can't help it. He loves seeing Amanda fall to pieces around him, filling the air with desperate begging and cussing. He slides down low enough that he's between her legs and he can get down to business.

He licks a stripe along her mound, circling her clit lightly, a promise. He has to be inside her but he's nowhere done teasing her yet, so he slowly slides a finger inside her, kissing the inside of her thigh, over her mound before gently easing another finger inside and scissoring, feeling the satin of her inner walls clench around his digits. 

He grins as Amanda makes desperate little noises, hands twisting desperately in the scarf. She's making the right noises but far too quiet.

He speeds up a little, matching his tongue and fingers until Amanda is trembling with need, completely wanton and completely his. 

"I could do this all night, keep you begging me to fuck you."

It's a lie of course, his body screaming for release, barely holding on but he knows that this is just the beginning and if he can hold on a little longer he'll have the best orgasm of his life. 

Amanda seems to believe him, her body wracked with pleasure and her moans have turned into sobs.

"Or I could fuck you, fuck your tight little pussy till you scream my name. Do you want me, Mandy? Want my cock inside of you?" Its a redundant question. Everything in Amanda's body is begging to be fucked, he can read it in her eyes, pupils blown, the red flush over her chest, writhing against him. But he needs to know that Amanda wants him as much as he wants her, that all those desperate hours alone in his bed and in the shower, his cock hard and straining against his hand has been worth it.

He unwraps the condom and if his hands are shaking only he knows it. Amanda is staring at the ceiling now.

"Please. Please, Roger fuck me now. I want you. So fucking bad. Now." He's impressed with the vulgarity in her words. He couldn’t have scripted it better. She knows just what to say.

"I'm going to make you fucking scream my name," he promises, positioning himself over her, "Ready?"

He doesn't wait, can't wait for a reply. He enters her quickly, and barely hold back a scream himself. She's all around him, hot and wet, satin walls sucking him in deeper into her blistering heat and every inch is exquisite torture until he's finally inside her and all he can do is breathe deeply.

"Roger!"

Her voice unhinges him. He has to have her. NOW.

"Shhh, Mandy, I've got you." Its all the comfort he can give because his body is already moving, craving hers and he plunges inside her deeper and deeper, the heat drawing him closer, and all he can think of that intense heat all around his cock, clenching around him harder and harder. 

He grabs her hips hard enough to bruise but Amanda doesn't seem to care. Her hips meet his and they're moving seamlessly together and all he can feel is satin heat inside of him and around him as her body moves beneath his. He watches as sweat beads at her throat and he curls his tongue, sweeping it up. Her skin is addictive and he needs more, nibbling at the soft skin of her throat. 

It takes a huge amount of willpower for him to stop thrusting and his body doesn't like it but he marshals himself ruthlessly. He needs to hear it. Needs to know that Amanda needs him as much as he needs her. That she is his, the way he is inexplicably but undeniably hers. 

"You're mine. Say it." Roger whispers against her. His answer is a whimper. It's not good enough. 

"Please, please, Roger!" Amanda begs. Roger shakes his head. 

He suddenly had a flashback to withdrawal. He'd begged and begged and begged Amanda for help for the last time. She had stared him down and had made him promise.

"Say it!" she had demanded. "Say that you want help, that you mean it." And he had, finally. He knew he couldn't kick his habit without help, that the drugs couldn't help him anymore.

Roger shook himself from the past. Remembering withdrawal was certainly a passion killer.

"Say it. You're mine. I want to hear you say it." It came out more of a plea then he had wanted but Amanda didn't notice. She was eying the door nervously, shy and nervous again.

"Roger, I can't they're all still out there." Her voice was choked with need. She'd break, soon.

Roger ran an idle finger across her clit and Amanda choked on her breath.

He felt stronger now. "Say it, Mandy, you know that it's true." He paused, a wicked grin gracing his features as he teased her with a slow rotation of his finger on her clit. "Say. It. Now." He wanted their friends to know, the whole building, fuck, the whole neighborhood.

It was a command and Amanda helplessly obeyed. 

"Fuck, fuck, alright, I’m yours. Fuck." Roger groaned underneath his breath as he resumed thrusting inside of her with renewed vigor, and as he had promised, Amanda screamed his name. 

There was a brilliant flash of light that lit up the room momentarily. He took it all, Amanda bound to his bedposts, body slowly relaxing after climax, her eyes returning to their normal beautiful blue. 

He didn't want to untie her. Untying her meant that there was a chance that Amanda would go back to hiding behind her camera. He could see it now, the hesitant way she averted her eyes as he pulled on a pair of boxers, throwing the condom in the trash. 

"Are you going to untie me?" Her voice was still unsteady 

"Are you going to be a good girl?"

"I think I've proved I'm a good girl," Amanda retorted. She was still in the game and it wasn’t the answer Roger wanted but he acquiesced, walking over to untie her. She gently rubbed the burn that has begun to form on her wrists.

"Stay."

He knew it was dangerous but he'd gone too far now. He'd had a taste of her and he needed more. He would always be a junkie.

"I can't."

"You're going to have to leave this room sometime. Either now or tomorrow they're going to make their own assumptions." He can't help but grin, his old wild smile. "Although, I'm pretty sure it's beyond dispute. Face them alone now or tomorrow."

He had won and he knew it. Intellectually Amanda knew their friends had probably heard everything but she wasn't brave enough to go out there and confirm it. 

"Stop thinking so much and come to bed." 

He hid his smirk as Amanda settled down beside him, he knew she was full of questions, trying to rationalize what had happened.

He could feel the thunder of her heart as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, gently bringing her wrists up to his mouth to kiss them. Amanda might be confused, but he wasn't. Tomorrow was going to be fun.

Happy new year, indeed.


End file.
